


Irradiated Ashes

by tactical_nuclear_penguin



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-01
Updated: 2016-01-13
Packaged: 2018-05-04 07:43:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5326175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tactical_nuclear_penguin/pseuds/tactical_nuclear_penguin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The few brief moments between trying to keep the Commonwealth from burning down.  A series of ficlets following Oliver and how he's dealing with it all.</p><p>Note: Tags, relationships, characters, and all that stuff will be updated as I go with the content.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Not Alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a heads up, this is not a spoiler-free fic and just...be cautious when reading. At the top of every chapter I'll put a vague warning of what content is provided.
> 
> For instance, you're good for this chapter if you're "done with Kellogg and get him on a deep level."

He missed them.

Every minute of every hour of every day.

It was hard not to, when he had decided to resettle in the house that they had shared with him.

Nora. Shaun.

He would sit within the living room and stare at the TV, hoping the _Please Stand By_ would pass. That he would blink, and some comedy hour would come on. Nora would make some comment about how all television was the same. Shaun would probably make a sound in agreement, even if he didn’t have any idea what was going on. He always agreed with Nora. From the moment he was born, the child was fascinated with her; in love with her. Little hands always grabbing at her face, her hair. It was why she had started to pin it back, shortly after he was born. That messy bun she would always complain about. _Oliver I look like a Mom_ , she would sigh; lip curling in distaste, as she stared at herself in the mirror in the morning.

They had been together since high school. Freshman year, he had taken a chance; asked a girl in his English class to the school dance. He had hardly known her at the time. Just that Nora was smart and beautiful. As luck would have it, she was more than that. So much more. They wed at eighteen, before going to college; Oliver choosing to becoming an officer instead of risking being drafted. Those years were too short.

And then he was gone. 

War never changes. It was always the same thing. One group of people fighting another, because someone in charge said to. He didn’t personally know these people, nor hate them...but he became good at it. Fast to catch on, fast to learn. Fast to rise in the ranks. He was brought into reconnaissance divisions. Sniper rifles were his go-to. Steady hand; steady breath. But thing never went like how they did in on paper. Things got dirty, messy. People got in too close too often. Lots of his men died because of it; because of his luck. But he also learned to combat it. Headshots at close range. Diverting fire. Learning to take a hit. All were skills he wasn’t supposed to need, but saved his life. So was how life worked for him. 

There was a point when he felt nothing for the people on the other side of his crosshairs. They were just a stain of red on the cement. Not a person. Not a man with a family of his own. Maybe they had a wife, too. A son or a daughter. Waiting for daddy to come home from war. He would be okay; of course he would be okay. The television said so. They were winning, even when they weren’t; because the people back home needed to believe. 

They needed hope.

But then Oliver would exhale slowly - finger curling around the trigger as he took aim. Crosshairs just above their head and to the right to account for the bullet curving, the wind, and the slight miscalibration of the scope. It would hit. It always hit. 

And then it did.

A letter would then arrive to their family. To the man’s wife; to his child.

And Oliver felt nothing.

But then it ended. Suddenly he was home. Fatigues traded for his Sunday-best. Helmet traded for a baseball cap. Shouting for him to take cover, traded for Nora shouting at the television for showing that one commercial she always hated.

And then Shaun.

Not an accident, but not on purpose. An unspoken desire until Nora let those fateful words slip past her lips. _Hey Ollie, bun’s in the oven._ It had been Shaun that had helped bring him back all the way. The final piece that made reality real again. This screaming little lump with Oliver’s eyes and hair, and his mother’s nose and mouth. The feeling in the pit of his stomach when their little bundle grabbed his finger was like nothing else he had experienced.

And then it was gone.

It had all been so sudden. A span of what felt like seconds. Codsworth pulling their attention to the television. The running to the vault. The bombs going off; God the bombs going off. Then the murder. He had been forced to watch it twice now; every detail like permanent marker scrubbed into his head.

Oliver’s fist beating on the glass. Nora holding onto the baby. A gun going off. Nora’s limp body releasing him. Releasing Shaun. Then they left. They _fucking_ left with his boy. 

And all he could do was bloody his hands.

God, did he miss them.

But Shaun was alive. Shaun still needed him; he had seen him through Kellogg’s mind. Heard his voice. Watched him reading the comics that Oliver used to, as Kellogg watched over him. Shaun even mentioned him; mentioned his father. _Can I go back to Father now?_ Such a good kid. No surprise there; there was something about how he acted as a baby that made that obvious to him.

But all that time lost.

Oliver tried not to let it bother him, and focus on the positives. His son was _still alive_. Around ten years old, but still alive. And whatever this Institute wanted with him...well, they could answer to his gun. He _was_ the “backup” after all.

Eyes glanced to Piper while he sat on his couch, as she perched herself on the stool next to the counter; fiddling with the radio to see if she could get something other than ‘Travis sounding uncomfortable’. God, she looked like her. Had the same freckles and bone structure as Nora. Nothing like her personality though. They wouldn’t have gotten along...or gotten along too well, and made his life impossible.

“Oh...I got a classical station. That’s something at least,” she shrugged, before moving to sit beside him on the couch; eyes touching on the pointless television, before moving to the window. A rad-storm was raging. Green clouds and lightning. A sound that was eerily similar to the Institute's weapons always dancing in the distance, whenever those storms raged. As long as they were inside, they were fine.

On the floor, Dogmeat played with a stuffed bear that Oliver had found for him in some abandoned house. Though the movements were violent, the bear was in perfect condition. Two button eyes and sewed on smile as perfectly in-tact as it was when he handed it to the dog. 

Oliver had never had a dog growing up, even if he had always asked for one. They had been discussing getting one, when Shaun was discovered to be growing. But now...he finally had one. Bitter-sweet in multiple ways. Lost his wife, his son...but gained a dog.

“If you ignore the horrible radiation, rad-storms are kind of beautiful,” Oliver commented, a hand running through his hair, as Dogmeat decided he was done with his toy, and climbed onto the couch. Sprawling himself across both Piper and him, the dog happily yawned, before whining to be pet.

“Does somebody want attention?” Piper asked, her voice dropping to that tone she only put on for animals, before her fingers sunk into the animal’s fur. Oliver quietly smiled to himself, scratching the poof under Dogmeat's chin. 

He may have lost everything, but at least he wasn’t alone.


	2. Moving On

_Take care of your equipment and it’ll take care of you._

The words still rattled in Oliver’s head; even after all the time that had passed since Basic. It wasn’t an original statement from his Commanding Officer - not by a long shot. But it had stuck. Guns and equipment needed care; be it keeping them from harm, or just giving them a good cleaning. 

Sitting on his bed in Diamond City, Oliver hummed along to the music playing on the radio at his bedside. Travis’ no longer confused and scared tone smoothly announced the next song, as practiced fingers disassembled his .10mm automatic pistol. He admittedly had never been a fan of anything that fired fast. He found it a waste of bullets; most of which would miss their targets anyway. But since waking up in literal hell, they were beginning to grow on him. A small burst of automatic rounds in a nicely modded weapon - carefully placed of course - was often enough to down a man, woman, feral ghoul, or whatever awful thing was crawling out of the sewers to eat his face. Plus he kept finding more .10mm rounds then shotgun shells. Oliver had a _somewhat_ decent amount of ammunition for his sniper rifle, but that up close was...well, _a mess_.

A cloth lay before him, as he deconstructed the weapon. It was an ill-attempt to keep the grease and grime from touching the probably already irradiated blankets. In reality he should have been doing it at a workbench or a desk, but the newly purchased homestead was lacking. He had already broken down a majority of the debris downstairs in an attempt to have some materials to make something more - well - _homey_ , but decided on taking a break. Codsworth on the other hand, was still largely at work. Oliver could still hear his oldest friend continue to move about downstairs; making idle comments to himself as he discovered more cobwebs. The quiet noises of the robot’s gears turning was comforting little slice from before the War.

It was nice to be away from Sanctuary a bit; away from his old house. His old bedroom. Oliver knew it wasn’t _good_ for him to still live there. He had even been tempted to switch houses; but the idea of anyone else occupying _his_ house was well...enough to keep his ass firmly placed in his bad habits. Though he wasn’t even sure if that could be considered a bad habit, when he could be shoving Mentats up his ass or injecting Psycho into his balls.

After defrosting from his coffin and bringing the Minutemen back to life, Oliver had began fixing up his old house. Standing tables up that had fallen, replacing items that had been long since rotted away or broken. It wasn’t the same house; not by far. But it at least felt more like home than any other part of the Commonwealth. It was his living room. His old kitchen. The same table that his grandfather had built, and his father had given him shortly after moving into the house. It made the bit of his life that was now gone, still exist. A constant reminder that it hadn’t been some sort of dream. It had been real. It had been his life. But now it was gone.

And he knew it was time to let go.

Most people didn’t seem to have a problem with Oliver restoring his house, until they saw the bedroom across from his. A crib with a freshly fixed mobile gently being carried by the breeze. A circular matt with a teddy bear lying in the middle. A desk with a ball and glove carefully balanced upon one another. It was perfectly restored to the last day he remembered. It was at that point, people would ask him how he’s doing. Feeling.

And this was why he was in Diamond City.

“Mister Oliver.”

Oliver jumped, nearly dropping the barrel of his weapon, as he ran a bit of cloth through it; amber eyes jumping to Codsworth, “Hey, buddy.”

“I believe I have done all I can downstairs. I...wish I could do more, but there’s no real way to wash out some of those rather...unique stains.”  
“Don’t worry about it Codsworth. I told you it could wait.”  
“Yet you continue cleaning in your own way, Mister Oliver.” “Well, you got me there,” he studied his work on the barrel, before running the cloth through it yet again, “Is...there something you needed, Codsworth?”  
“If...you do not mind, Mister Oliver, I have a...query.”  
“Shoot.”  
“Sir...did you not love your wife?”

“What the fuck, Codsworth?” Oliver’s tone unkind, biting; brows pinching together as he glanced up at the many eyes of the robot before him, “Why the hell would you ask that?”  
“Well...I admit to not fully understand such things, but it is a bit hard to miss. Your affections at Miss Wright, is what I’m referring to. And...I even notice some directed at that Paladin Danse.”  
“Nora’s dead, Codsworth.”  
“I’m quite aware, Mister Oliver.”  
“And yes, I still love her. Nothing...will ever change that. Ever. But the fact is, I’m alone. She’s back in Vault 111 with a bullet…” he rolled his lips in, eyes breaking away from Codsworth before he took a rather deep breath and continued, “She’s gone, and I am not. Moving on doesn’t devalue what her and I had. I need you to understand that, Codsworth.”

The robot remained silent for a moment; its many eyes widening and shrinking as he studied Oliver, before finally speaking again, “Miss Wright I understand, but Paladin Danse as well?”

“That’s a conversation for another day, Codsworth.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WELL this was depressing.


	3. Quiet Time

Sometimes he forgot that two-hundred-and-ten years had passed. Light brown eyes would open to see that damn painting on the wall next to the bed; the one Nora bought from a garage sale. _It’s so ugly I love it_ , she had whispered with that damn big toothy grin she got when she wasn’t up to any good. She had proudly put it in a place of honor - as she had called it - right next to the door in their bedroom. It was because of that _damned_ painting, his mind would slip. The weight next to him in the bed was his beautiful wife, Nora. The engine sound just outside of the window wasn’t a generator, but a neighbor mowing their lawn. The low whirring was Codsworth keeping an eye on Shaun as they slept.

But then he’d take a breath of the air, or glance over at the broken window covered by a Minutemen flag, and the illusion was broken. Nora was long dead, Shaun was...well, that was complicated. But that life was long gone. Codsworth liked to bring it up when they travelled. Happily chattering about how those past few months were the happiest he had seen Nora and Oliver together - with their little son. He knew that his old friend meant well, but it was a bit like rubbing salt into a wound he continually kept trying to clean and wrap.

Rolling away from the painting, Oliver smiled at the silhouette beside him; her hair splayed out on the pillow behind her, while she slept on her side. Slipping up behind her, he gently nuzzled the back of Piper’s neck with his nose, arm gently wrapping around her waist. 

“Hey Blue,” her voice quiet and raspy, her fingers intertwining with his, just next to her waist, “Morning.”  
“Morning,” he gently kissed her neck, as she pulled his hand tighter around her; gently brushing against the underside of her breast.  
“Oops. Didn’t mean to boob you.”  
“Dammit Piper. Now I have to burn off that hand. I liked that hand.”  
“Would you just have a stub, or get a hook?” her voice carrying a smile, as her thumb gently ran over his knuckles.  
“Maybe get a robot arm. One with a _vibrate_ setting,” he leaned forward to whisper in her ear, causing Piper to laugh.  
“Ah Blue, always trying to please.”  
“See, that can be arranged,” he smiled - his voice low as he slipped his hand from hers, gently rubbing them against the front of her underwear.  
“ _Oh_ , so you were just waiting to segway into that since waking up, huh?” she asked, her hips slightly pressing into his touch.  
“Guilty,” Oliver smiled, his tongue running along the edge of her ear, and sliding to her neck; fingers continuing to gently tease. He smiled into the kisses, as he heard her breath hitch in her throat, the rubbing with his fingers pausing, as he slid them past the elastic and quickly located her clit. Piper pressed her body back against his; a quiet mmm slipping through her lips. 

“You know there are two _wide open_ windows in this room right?” her voice a whisper, “I can literally hear footsteps right outside.”  
“Exciting, isn’t it?” Oliver whispered, “Plus the windows are covered...ish.”  
“Ish.”  
“If you’re uncomfortable, I’ll stop,” he reacted his hand from her underwear - mouth moving away from her neck - holding his hands in an ‘I surrender’ pose. 

Piper rolled towards him, a smile pulling at her lips. For a moment, she was silent, just staring.

“What?” Oliver asked, lowering his hands to rest beside him, as she watched him in the dim morning light. The sun had only just risen; the room bathed in deep orange. A gentle breeze pulled at the two flags that covered the windows; one Minutemen, the other American.

“Just enjoying looking at my pre-war relic,” she smiled, before her hand reached forward to cradle his jaw; thumb rubbing over the stubble on the side of his face, before leaning in to press her lips against his. Oliver’s brows pinched together as she kissed him, his fingers sliding into her hair and he pulled her closer. What started gentle, light, _kind_ ; grew in hunger. Lips, teeth, tongue. Oliver rolled himself on top of her, pressing his hips into hers, as his mouth broke away from her lips, returning to her neck to get even more of a reaction out of her. A faint moan slipped past her lips; scarred fingers gently slipping over her mouth.

“Shhh...as you said; open window,” Oliver whispered in her ear - fingers lifting from her mouth to gently tap her on the nose, as he smiled into her neck.  
“What happened to ‘ _exciting_ ’?” she mused, using her hand to pull his face back into view, “Did that wear off already?”

“Don’t use logic against me at this hour,” he whispered, hand sliding down her side; thumb hooking the elastic of her underwear and slid them down; lips returning to hers. Bracing himself on his elbow, he pulled himself over the top of his sleep pants - lips still on hers. Piper’s legs wrapped around him, pulling him closer - pushing him against her entrance.

Oliver smiled into the kiss, “Someone’s eager.”  
“Shhh… _fff—_ ” he felt Piper tense around him as he slid in; fingers digging into his back - legs encouraging him to go deeper. And who was he to refuse?

Oliver began slow, breaking away from the kiss just to watch her face react to _him_. A smile that was almost filled with relief, guiding her lips. Teeth sinking into her own bottom lip, as half lidded eyes watched him back. He reached down and cupped her chin; her smile widening as she half-attempted to bite his hand.

He sped his pace up; taking a long low breath to keep himself steady. Ladies first, after all. Below him, he watched Piper’s eyes narrow further in thought, before he felt her legs moving.

“What are you…?” a quiet question on his lips, as she moved her legs to hook over her shoulders; effectively folding her in half.

“Try that, Blue.”

Oh.  
_Oh._

Oliver’s brows pinched together, a slightly strangled sound purred in the back of his throat at the difference. Classic, normal, boring old missionary felt good, yes. But this? This twist on the classic was something he’d need to write down. Or something. God damn.

“What? Does that feel good or something?” she asked, her own breath hitching, as the man above her sped up more, unable to help himself. A low groan slipped through his clenched teeth; slider fingers suddenly against his lips.

“Open window,” Piper mused, as some voices were carried in from outside. Preston was mentioning something about it not raining, and Dogmeat made a low sound in agreement. Releasing a shuddering breath, he slowed his pace slightly, eyes glancing up out the somewhat obscured window. Sturges was already working on fixing things. Marcy was trying to get Jun to farm with her. Mama Murphy was probably yelling at people for chems. The average day in Sanctuary.

Without warning, Oliver changed his slow pace to deep, powerful thrusts; Piper swearing in surprise. Nails dug further into her back, as her eyes bore into his. Ha, he already had her. Lips pressing against hers, he continued the motion; feeling her coil up around him. Oliver was only vaguely aware of the bed-frame hitting the wall from his motions, as she finally came undone. Mouth breaking from his and burying into his shoulder to hide any sounds that tried to escape. Taking another deep breath, Oliver felt himself near the edge but didn’t want to give in just yet.

Piper pulled her face from his shoulder; features flush with a wide smirk, “Damn.”  
“I know. I’m pretty good at this whole sex thing,” he smiled back.  
“My turn.”  
“Wh—”

And suddenly the small statured reporter was on top of him; clad only in his flannel over shirt, as she ran a hand through her hair, grinding her hips against his. He watched her, as she winked at him; her movements slow - steady. Just enough to keep him stimulated without pushing him closer. It was...almost frustrating. He had been on the edge only moments ago, and now she was winding him down; wanting to play with him. God, he loved her.

Her hand moved down his chest, before a wicked grin pulled at her lips. Piper slid her hips up, until just the tip was inside her. From there, she moved - but just barely; playing with the tip of his cock. Oliver’s lips parted as he watched her. He was hypnotized - yet mentally begging her to go further. Slide down him. Fuck him. _End him._.

“What?” her voice light - a smile hot on her lips, as she tilted her head to the side, “You almost look like you want something.”  
“I’m just enjoying the show.”  
“Mhm. So you wouldn’t mind if I--”

She slowly slid down his shaft, until their bodies were flush against one another once more. She then lifted herself again - still painfully slow - beginning to set a pattern for movement. Oliver’s breathing was ragged, as he watched her. _Felt her._

Leaning forward she kissed him; hands seizing his wrists and pinning them to the bed on either side of his head. Breaking the kiss, she sharply increased her speed; a wheezing gasp slipping through Oliver’s lips - a moan being bit back before it could escape.

Mama Murphy was now loudly asking Paladin Danse for Psycho. Their voices so close it was practically outside of the window.

Oliver’s teeth sank into his lower lip, as her grip on his wrists grew tighter and tighter. Amber eyes focusing on Piper, he noticed she was already pretty close herself. Again. Someone was having a good morning. Breaking out from under her grip, he placed his hands on her bare waist, and began quickly thrusting up into her. Short, hard, _deep_ movements.

Piper’s mouth felt open in a silent gasp, as he felt her grow tight around him. Fuck, he was right on the edge. But he had to finish her off, when she was that close. It would be plain rude to deny her yet another orgasm. A hearty, deep, and honestly rather loud moan slipped from Piper, as she finally hit her peak.

She froze, realizing what she had done; ceasing on movement on Oliver. Staring at the window, quickly recovered with a rather loud, “Hahahaha you’re so funny Oliver; making me choke on my food you diphole.”

They both waited for a moment - listening to hear if the deafening silence outside would continue from Piper’s slip of the sound rule. Then - after what felt like a century - Cait’s laugh picked through the stillness, before mocking Mama Murphy asking the Paladin for chems.

With a sigh of relief, they looked at each other before both falling into laughter.

“Sorry about that, Blue,” she apologized, beginning to move again; the tightness in Oliver’s stomach quickly remembering where it was only moments before. It just needed a little reminder.

“Mmm...off,” he warned - Piper quickly falling to the bed at his side. Oliver’s hand slid to his honestly rather soaking cock, before moving up and down its length. He was far enough from the edge he required a bit of work to finish; but close enough he wasn’t comfortable with Piper doing more of her dirty tricks to him. While he yearned to have his child back, he didn’t think he was ready to try the whole ‘baby’ thing again. Not yet anyway. And not without a rather long conversation first.

His fingers wrapped around the head, before sliding down his shaft; a few gentle motions followed by rough, almost violent movements. He could feel her eyes on him; she always did love to watch. Teeth sinking into his bottom lip, he pressed his head back into the pillow - having reached the blissful few strokes before orgasm. He was right there. At the finish line. And god did it feel good.

Oliver groaned quietly, followed but a few whispers of a grunt; his seed ruining his already rather soaked-through pants. Glancing down at himself, he laughed, before closing his eyes and sighing.

“I think I need to burn these pants. There’s no saving them,” he whispered, feeling helpful fingers pull them off his legs and toss them onto the floor; leaving him clad in his shirt and boxers, “Good, now get Codsworth to set them on fire,” he smiled, watching Piper resettle next to him on the bed.

“This is your own fault for not taking your pants off, Blue.”  
“I know, I know. But it’s kinda hot, right? Mostly clothed sex. Admit it.”  
“Yeah...yeah. Pants literally died for our efforts today, though.”  
“And we shall never forget their sacrifice for three really, _really_ fucking good orgasms.”

Outside, MacCready’s voice rang out, “So are we done pretending we can’t hear them having sex now, or is that still going?”

“Well,” Oliver sighed, “We tried.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey look sex


End file.
